Just back from the Isle of Man where a group of us has just spent a few days walking. The walking was good but the food in the hotel was not. In six days the menu was repeated about three times and mushrooms in cream and scampi and chips are not my favourite foods.
We had an excellent leader in Christine, and this poem, which I read on the last night there, is for her:
I ATE A LOT OF MUSHROOMS
Yes, I ate a lot of mushrooms,
And munched on piles of toast,
But what I’d like you all to know
Are the sights that mattered most –
There’s Caroline in scarlet hat,
Who’s lost her man again,
And Joy who’s coughed, but soldiered on,
And Jules who’s semi lame.
There’s Derek poised with camera,
But we’re not a pretty sight,
So he snaps the trees, the hills, the streams,
The seagull’s soaring flight.
Wendy’s looking thoughtful,
A spaniel’s frolicked by,
But she mustn’t think of Kip at home,
That thought would make her cry.
Sandie’s looking dashing,
Her headgear’s quite a find,
Steve begged her not to wear it
And is stomping far behind.
The golden glow of gorse bush,
The silver swirling stream,
The endless rolling Irish sea,
A train with whirls of steam.
The granite of the castle,
The mighty Laxey wheel,
The rattle of a bumpy train,
And the lonely whistle’s squeal.
Yes, we ate a lot of mushrooms,
And scampi, pie and toast,
But what we really want to say,
The thing that matters most…
Is that Christine was our leader,
Patient, thoughtful, nifty,
And never once on any walk
Did she mention £3.50!
[Our walks’ leader here charges us £3.50 per walk]